by Bruce Orr
As the name indicates, he was not very friendly at all, and the Cherokees gave Kecleh-Kudleh a wide berth. Most people refer to the hairy savage by another name taken from a Native American tribe from Canada. That name roughly translates to “wild man of the woods.” It is a derivative of the Salishan language of the Halkomelem tribe of southwest British Columbia. That word is “Sasquatch.”
Regardless if you call him Kecleh-Kudleh, Sasquatch, Bigfoot or even Skunk-ape, apparently he still resides in Francis Marion National Forest and Santee Swamp, according to some. In fact, several individuals have filed their encounters with the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization, a scientific research group dedicated to the investigation of these creatures. The following descriptions of encounters within Berkeley County were taken directly from the statements of the witnesses. The following are their own words taken from BFRO reports:
July 1993—First of all I don’t believe in Sasquatches. Second I don’t care if you believe me or not (Nobody does, except the person that was with me).
As a boy I just about lived on the Banks of the Santee, every summer my Grandparents would camp on the Santee River. My granddad would take me out of school on the last day of the school year, and we would go straight to the Santee River and just about stay all summer. My Granddad use to tell us stories of a bear or something that look like one, my grand-mom would make him stop because it would scare me so.
She just would tell me he’s trying to scare me so I didn’t ever believe him until one hot summer night about 18 years later a group of friends wanted to go camping but wanted to go somewhere real secluded. Since I was always in the woods they asked if I knew of any place. I told them that I did know of a place on the Santee River about a mile from the Dam. The next thing I know plans were set to go. A girlfriend of mine at that time wanted to go also so I gave everyone directions on how to get there and my girlfriend and I would set up a day early and see them the next day there. I haven’t been to this place since my Granddad passed away, it was too hard on me to go back but I felt like I was ready to try it again 10 or so years later.
The Santee lake and around it is swampy and the lake is full of stumps and a lot of moss in the trees. It a very beautiful place to go, but not too many people go to the river side of the Dam. The river starting from the Dam is 51 miles from the ocean. I know this because my mother caught a flounder there and someone took a picture of it and put it in the paper. They told the story of it and that it was 51 miles from the Ocean. I know all about that river and I know where the great Swamp Fox [Francis Marion] is buried way back on the river also. Anyway, my girlfriend and I got to Wilson’s Landing about 3:00 PM on a Friday, that’s a bait shop just behind the Dam, from there the paved road turns into dirt and mud. We drove about a mile back into the woods along the river to a place we used to camp. Nothing has changed one bit except for the trash on the river.
The river is at some spots about 200 yard wide and 1 foot deep. In some places it is only 20 feet wide and 15 feet or so deep. When the water comes out of the dam it is split into by an island. I have never been on that Island because it is very swampy and full of snakes. My uncle still hunts on it though. As a matter of fact this is why I’m telling this, he has heard something there and doesn’t know what it is so I told him my story and he is the only person who didn’t laugh. You name it, it’s on that island: snakes, wild hogs, deer, lots of deer, people say they seen bear and gators. I am now saying there is something that walks on two legs and is not a bear.
As I was saying we drove way back there and started to set up camp. To our right there is a cleft about 50 ft high with bushes and what not on it. You know I’m not going to make a big story out of this, I’m just going to tell you what happened. We’re in the woods, it’s dark and we hear things on the river. My girlfriend (who was new to this camping thing) kept asking me, “What was that,” on every little thing. That was an owl, that’s a frog, that’s deer jumping into the river from the Island.
“Are you sure someone isn’t down there throwing bricks in the water?” I told her it would have to be cement block to make that loud of a sound. But I will take the light and shine down to the river and look. I went over to the edge and shined all around and didn’t see anything. The noise stopped also. So everything is fine for about thirty minutes. Then I mean deer were jumping in that river like crazy. I have to admit, and it could have been her asking all those questions, I was getting a little nervous.
Then it happened; SOMETHING was coming up that cleft and I mean it was breaking branches and you could hear the dirt falling down from the weight of it. There is no way a deer can climb that bank. It was getting closer and closer and it didn’t take but one “what?,” out of her to get me in the truck looking for my gun. I couldn’t find it and I was yelling out to her asking where is my gun, she answered “I don’t know,” from the passenger seat, “…but here’s the keys let’s go.” I jumped in and fired up the truck and started driving out praying I wouldn’t get stuck, not here, not now. We made it to the dirt road and I hung a right, we left everything at camp, food, tent, lantern burning, and somewhere my gun! I have never been that scared in my life! I must have drove 50 feet and then I slammed on the brakes and yanked her left and stop facing the way we were leaving. “What are you doing?,” she asked. “I grew up in these woods on this river and I am going to find out what’s back there.” She didn’t say a word. I started off and was going about 2 mph and looking with my high beams on. I was looking for something, deer or bear or something.
We started around the curve to the left. Just around the curve is the drive to camp, I don’t want to go there, so I told her we would drive up a little past camp and turn around. I didn’t go maybe 5 or 10 feet past the drive when this thing stepped out in front of us. I hit the brakes! “What is it?” she asked. “I don’t know let me back up so I can see.” All I saw at first and SHE SAW was two long hairy legs, I started backing up so my lights would spot it better since it was too close to the truck.
GOD as my witness and hers, this was no bear, this thing was maybe 7 or 8 feet tall and big, hairy and wet, it didn’t stand real straight like you and me would but more at a slump from the waist up. It had the reddest eyes I have ever seen, and it just looked at us, frozen, looking, not moving at all, just standing there. “OH my GOD! My granddad was telling the truth after all.” Then it just looked to his left and leaned as his leg started to turn, then he moved the other taking about a three foot stride, until it was out of site, gone into the woods. This thing walked on two feet and was not a bear.
Hello? I live in South Carolina! I said earlier that I don’t believe in Sasquatches but how am I to explain what we saw? One night that changed me and her forever. The next day we saw those foot prints and they were bigger than mine, I saw the cleft and all the broken branches and the dirt that was dug out from it. Nobody will believe me when I tell this story but that’s ok I don’t care, I know what I saw and that’s that. This was 7 years ago and the only reason I’m thinking about it now is because of my uncle who was telling me something last night. Something he heard in the swamp/woods on the Island of the Santee River.
There is one thing, but it could be just the area. We smelt an awful smell. Like dead fish or animal. It could have been just a change in the wind from the river. A lot of times when the river drops fish get stuck in the pools on the rocks. The water dries out and the fish die and stink. I don’t think much of it. I couldn’t smell anything on the road with it standing in front of me because the windows were up.
May 2002—I think I might have seen something while I was in South Carolina last May, but I’m really not sure. Anyways, I live in Florida and last May I went on a Herping trip to South Carolina looking for snakes to collect and photograph. While I was in Francis Marion National Forest walking a trail with my eyes set to the ground on the side of the trail looking for snakes I saw something leap across the trail about 50 yards ahead of me from left to right in one leap. It was o
n two legs about the size of a person or bigger and was uniform brown in color. This is basically all I saw. I was only about 15–20 minutes into the trail when this occurred. The trail was very narrow but straight and densely wooded on either side. I was by myself and I never saw anybody else on the trail or in the park during my time there. I know this is disjointed but let me try to describe this further. After I saw this thing leap across the trail ahead of me, I stopped in place and listened, somewhat startled. I did not hear anything going through the woods. My first thought was it was a hunter, then I thought it might be a weird person following me or something, so I started to get a little worried and thought of turning back toward my car. I tried to play back in my mind what I saw because it was somewhat of a blur when it happened. That’s when I ruled out it was a person because it was all brown in color and had to be fur and not clothing. I knew it wasn’t a deer because it was on two legs when it leaped across the trail. It was definitely a human shape though. After some thought I decided to proceed forward up the trail where I saw this thing cross. I had a 40 inch metal snake hook with me that I thought I could use if I needed to. When I got to the place I thought it crossed I looked through the thick trees to see if I could see anything but I did not. I resumed my snake hunting on the trail but I was looking over my shoulder the rest of the way. I returned back the trail a couple of hours later and did not see anything. I have to say it wasn’t till I returned to my hotel room in Mt. Pleasant that I seriously thought what I saw might be something out of the ordinary.
October 20, 2004—I was traveling down Hwy 402 in Berkeley County going to load some steel at a steel plant. It was just before dark and I saw something ahead on all fours crossing the road. At first I thought it was a horse, then a bear. It did not have a natural gait and the body was too thin to be a horse and it was too tall to be a bear. As I closed up on it I saw that it had dark brown hair that was several inches long. The head was smaller than a horse or a bear. I believe it to be a Bigfoot on all fours. I had slowed down and stopped where I thought it had gone into the woods. It was very thick at this point. Standing, it would probably be 9 feet tall from my opinion. January 2007—I deliver newspapers early in the morning. I was almost finished with the route and I made a left turn on to [edited] and placed a paper in the tube. I proceeded to the next tube, and after placing the paper in it, my headlights caught something off to the far left. I observed a figure walking along the tree line along the edge of the cornfield away from my position. At first I thought it might be a man, but it was all black and it turned and I saw large red eyes staring back. I could not make out its face, and it continued to walk away. I turned my vehicle in past the paper tube to try and get a better look. It was at this point it stopped and looked at my direction again. From my estimation it looked to be at least 75 to 100 yards away, and about 6 or 7 feet tall. The creature then continued walking away, and feeling spooked I drove out of there fast. I proceeded to finish my paper route, trying to comprehend what I had just seen. It was just starting to become lighter out, it was about 6:45am, and it was still quite dark out. This area has a lot of farmland and wooded areas, and is very rural. The whole incident occurred in about 20 or 25 seconds. I felt as if I might have disturbed “it,” for I felt an uneasy feeling when it looked my way. As this is the country, I see a lot of wildlife out at night when I deliver papers—deer, foxes, raccoons, possum, and even bobcat. I have hiked and spent lots of time in the Appalachians and I know what a bear looks like and have seen bear up close during hikes on the Appalachian Trail. I know there are some bear in South Carolina, but they mostly reside in the upper part of the state. What I saw definitely was not a bear.
The colonists may have been able to drive the Cherokees from Berkeley County, but apparently there are some things that just won’t leave the swamps. Perhaps Kecleh-Kudleh is one of them.
THE CHEROKEE LEGEND OF SPEAR FINGER
The Cherokees avoided the Little People and Kecleh-Kudleh, but sometimes other beings were malicious and had to be dealt with. Most southeastern tribes believed that each individual had a spirit and could become a ghost after death. Ghosts could make themselves visible to whomever they chose, but oftentimes they remained invisible. When a person died, the village shouted and made noise to drive the ghost away. If the ghost was allowed to stay, it would drain the energy from the living and cause illness or even death. Sometimes ghosts would get lonely and come back and visit relatives not realizing that they were bringing illness. They, too, had to be driven away.
Sometimes a murdered man whose death was not avenged would come back and haunt the eaves of his own house until his equal blood was shed by the murderer or his family. Ghosts were not tolerated well. Neither were witches. Conjuring and magic were generally accepted as everyday occurrences to the Cherokees. What they could not stand were those who abused it. They had a very low tolerance for witches.
One such person was known as Spear Finger. She was an old hag who lived off human livers. They became her sole source of nourishment. Spear Finger was also a shape-shifter and could take any form, although her favorite was that of a helpless and harmless old woman. Spear Finger also cast a spell on herself that made her skin as hard as rock. This made her invincible to spears and arrows. Even the sharpest knife could not cut the old witch.
Spear Finger had one identifying characteristic that she tried to keep concealed. That was a long forefinger. The finger was pure bone and resembled an awl or a spear. She used it to stab anyone she could get close enough to. Her favorite pastime was to walk along the trails where children picked blackberries. She would coax them in a sweet voice by saying, “Come grandchildren, come to granny and let her fix your hair.” Inevitably, some young girl would come over and lay her head on the old woman’s lap, and the old witch would play with her hair until the child fell asleep. She would then stab the sleeping child through the heart or the back of the neck with the long bony finger that she kept hidden under her robe. She would then cut out the dead child’s liver and eat it.
After many children disappeared, a great council was called together to figure out what to do about Spear Finger. Soon they devised a plan to dig a large pit along the path and conceal the pit with underbrush. When the witch would step on the underbrush, she would fall into the pit and not be able to escape. The warriors would then attack her in unison.
Spear Finger did indeed fall into the trap. The hunters and warriors rushed to the pit and began trying to kill the witch. Well the arrows and spears had no effect on her stony skin and just bounced off. The warriors kept firing until they were almost exhausted. A little bird, a titmouse, was perched on a tree high above and watched what was taking place. The bird cried out “heart,” and the warriors took its advice and began shooting at the witch’s heart—still to no effect. In frustration, a warrior grabbed the titmouse and cut off its tongue.
Soon another bird, a chickadee, flew down from a tree and landed on the witch’s right hand. The warriors took this as a sign that they should aim for the witch’s hand. The witch had been motionless up until this moment, but now she began to jump about the pit and try and stab the warriors with her bony finger. The warriors continued firing at Spear Finger as she jumped about. Finally, one of the arrows struck her directly through the wrist of her right hand, the hand that held the deadly finger. The witch then fell over and bled to death from her wound. She had cast a spell of protection on her entire body except for the hand that held her spear-like finger. It was her only weakness, and a tiny little bird guided the warriors to it.
Spear Finger is a legend that has traveled with the Cherokees wherever they went. She was said to roam the mountains of Cherokee, North Carolina, while others claim she followed the Cherokees to Oklahoma. Others claimed to set the record straight: she was a vile evil being that gained her powers from demonic forces. She used those powers to appear when and where she wanted. She hid her hand and her secret weakness from all until the little chickadee figured it out. This is alleged
ly the origin of the phrase “a little birdie told me.”
THE GHOSTS OF CAMP LOW COUNTRY AND RICHMOND PLANTATION
In the mid-1760s, Colonel John Harleston purchased Richmond Plantation. Legend has it that Colonel Harleston was almost unable to buy the property because he was thrown from his horse while crossing a bridge, and his money, which was bills of credit from the Province, was soaked in the river. He attempted to dry the money on the side of the road, but a gust of wind blew it back into the water. He jumped in to retrieve the bills and rode off to Richmond Plantation, arriving just before the purchase deadline.
Harleston soon added Villa Plantation, Bossis Plantation and Rice Hope Plantation, as well as land and another home on the Charleston peninsula, to his landholdings. Richmond Plantation, however, was his country seat. From there, he represented the parish of Saint John’s Berkeley.
Long after Colonel Harleston’s swim and purchase of the plantation, 153 acres of Richmond Plantation have belonged to the Girl Scouts of Eastern South Carolina. Since that purchase in 1963, the area has been known as Camp Low Country and has created many fond memories for many young ladies throughout the years. It also may have created a scare or two.
Many of the tales handed down through the ranks of Girl Scouts through the decades may have quite possibly been fabricated for the sheer fun of scaring one another—then again, maybe not.
One of the stories involves a young girl named Alice who had a beautiful white horse. The horse was a trained jumper and performed very well under the watchful eye of the young girl’s father. The young girl enjoyed her time with the horse, yet the horse had a wild streak that only seemed to be kept in control by the stern commands of the young lady’s father.
One day, Alice, against her father’s directions, took the horse out on her own. The horse, realizing that the stern master was not around, displayed his wild streak to the fullest. After racing around frenetically and uncontrollably, he began to buck and rear. Poor Alice was sent flying through the air. The helpless girl struck a tree, and her neck was broken. She died instantly.
